


The Wasteland Awakens

by xkailajayx



Category: Fallout 4, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fallout, F/M, M/M, Poe is a Railroad agent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-16 02:11:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5809672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xkailajayx/pseuds/xkailajayx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world hadn’t ended like they said it would. It didn’t burn. It didn’t drown. When the bombs went off, the lucky ones were vaporised. For some people, death tooks days. For others, they lived hundreds of years later as hollow impersonations of themselves. The world ended in a series of flashes, polluted and infected. People hadn’t been expecting their world end, but even when it had humanity kept fighting.</p>
<p>When people say the world ended, that day, they meant the world as the people left alive knew it. None of those people still lived, all long dead, buried, and turned to dust. The world ended, but it kept turning. People found new ways to live, and new ways to die, and the days turned into nights just like they always had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the choice

**Author's Note:**

> So basically I saw TFA and then I played Fallout for six days straight and for three of those nights I dreamed about the characters of TFA in the Fallout 4 universe.
> 
> Quick descriptions of the groups:  
> -The Institute are the New Order. Stormtroopers are Synths. Corsairs are a thing. Phasma's a Corsair.  
> -The Brotherhood are the Republic.   
> -The Minutemen are the Resistance. General Leia Organa is in charge.  
> -The Railroad are known as the Pilots. They're run by Jessika Pava, and Poe is their best agent.  
> \- The Children of the Atom are the only approximation of the Sith I have. They're a slightly bizarre group worshiping a corrupt power, no?   
> -I don't have any approximation for the Jedi. If anyone has any suggestions, I'm all ears.)
> 
> The Force is still a thing, although the cultural background of the world is going to be mostly Fallout 4, as far as I can get away with it. I hope people enjoy!
> 
> My tumblr is xkailajayx if anyone wants to come say hi! I'm currently looking for a beta reader.

The world hadn’t ended like they said it would. It didn’t burn. It didn’t drown. When the bombs went off, the lucky ones were vaporised. For some people, death tooks days. For others, they lived hundreds of years later as hollow impersonations of themselves. The world ended in a series of flashes, polluted and infected. People hadn’t been expecting their world end, but even when it had humanity kept fighting.

When people say the world ended, that day, they meant the world as the people left alive knew it. None of those people still lived, all long dead, buried, and turned to dust. The world ended, but it kept turning. People found new ways to live, and new ways to die, and the days turned into nights just like they always had. 

\---

FN-2187 was one of the latest generation of mature synths, based off of a new cache of data located in a far flung abandoned laboratory. He’d always been the brightest in his pod, topping the list of ‘promising’ creations of the program, commended and rewarded for his intelligence and skill. When they started training them to leave, to go outside of the protection of the winding, underground corridors, he was the fastest, the strongest. 

It didn’t make him any friends. 

The rest of his pod stood by him, as they had to, as they’d been conditioned to all their existence. But he wasn’t like them. Wasn’t one of them, not really. He cared too much. They said it made him weak, and in some ways they were right. But in training, when he not only saved his podmate but achieved the objective with minimal effort, it was always going to rub them up the wrong way.

He’d been training in combat, getting ready to leave, for five years. That was usually how long they had before their first deployment. Five years from personality finalisation, or in the case of the newer model bio-synths like FN-2187 maturity, and then they were out in the world above. They weren’t told much. There was an objective that Ren and Captain Phasma would deal with. They were in charge of taking out any hostiles, and ensuring no one escaped. Simple.

Except they were attacking a small settlement. Half the size of the one used in the sims, with only a handful of people with weapons and none of them decent. It was still a firefight, and the feeling of it, the feeling the sims didn’t come close to, it overpowered FN-2187. The smoke blurred his vision, and it felt like it was choking him even though he knew the helmets filtered it out. He felt dizzy, like he could barely stand. What had happened to the confident, talented cadet? Thirty-six shots, thirty-five kills. That’s what he got in the last sim. Why couldn’t he do it now, when the people weren’t pixels and there would be blood staining the sand?

FN-2187 had never lost someone before. You didn’t socialise outside of your pod and your captain, and the four of them had never strayed from that, even if they could barely tolerate each other. Watching Slips fall to the floor sent a feeling he’d never felt rush through him. Crouching at his side, he stared in confusion. What could he do? He was still alive- reaching his hand out, and then there was a single drop of red on the lens of his helmet. The bio-synths were grown humans, augmented but flesh and bone. It was easy to forget. They were so rarely injured, but now- a man he’d grown up with, trained with his entire life, had died.

He didn’t want to fight these settlers. They were defending their home, their lives. He didn’t blame them. And his hands were shaking too much to hold the blaster straight, anyway. He’d only miss. And they’d found him, the man that Ren said was important. There was no need to shoot anyone now.

It was hard to really pay attention to what was happening, he was concentrating on looking normal while his head continued to spin. He wanted more than anything to be able to take the helmet off, and he was fighting the urge to rip it off his head when the blaster was fired. Everyone turned, raising blasters to train it on the single man as he was dragged to Ren’s feet.

A Resistance fighter, of course. The man with the bike, who’d been the best shot out of all of the settlers. He acted like he knew Ren, cocky and sure as he was dragged up and forced to ‘port with Ren and the guards. And then the order came- kill the defenceless, harmless settlers. FN-2187 couldn’t. Wouldn’t, he decided. The First Order hadn’t given him any reason to give them his loyalty. They’d created him to be a soldier, to kill and die for them, and what had they given him in return? Blood on his helmet and an order to kill screaming women and children.

When his pod was cleared to teleport back into the base, he started to panic. They checked the blasters, how many shots taken. Phasma cornered him as he stepped off the pad, tugging his helmet off.

“Who told you you could do that?” She asked curtly. He swallowed, blinking.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I… was concerned about contaminants.” He offered, biting his lip. Phasma shook her head.

“Put it back on, and report your blaster for inspection. Now.” She ordered, turning on her heel and walking away. He did, fingers nervously twitching in the air above the holster. He knew what they’d find, no shots fired- and that wasn’t acceptable. He wouldn’t have much time after handing it in before the corsairs came looking for him, so he had to get out quickly. But he’d need an excuse to use the ‘porter. 

Maybe he could use the prisoner.

\---

Poe was having a pretty shitty day, all things considered.

It had started with the General coming to him. He didn’t see her as much these days, mostly communicating through dead drops she remembered the signs for from her days with the Pilots. But she turned up at his safehouse and asked him how attached he was to his current job, ferrying rescued synths from wherever they showed up to the three settlements they now had set up. The answer was simple and made her smile brightly- not very.

The job offer he got in response was, in his opinion, particularly cruel. She started by saying that is was dangerous- and nothing got his interest more than the words ‘it’s definitely dangerous’. Him and BB-8, the droid-synth that had imprinted on Poe after his conditioning had been wiped, would have to get into territory they knew was under First Order control, find a man who used to travel with Luke Skywalker, convince him to give them a map, and get out without being caught.

Simple. And it was, for a while. Getting in wasn’t too hard. Head down, a full tank of gas, and he was faster than anything else the wasteland had to throw at him, and he could usually manage shooting at whatever was coming at the same time. Lor San Tekka was certainly interesting, an old friend of Luke’s and the only man in the world who knew where he was. And he handed that knowledge over without a single complaint.

BB-8 rolled in seconds after, beeping frantically in the door of the shack. The First Order were coming, and they didn’t have much time left. Poe could see the bright blue flash of the ‘porting as groups of Stormtroopers appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. The settlers had grabbed their weapons, but they stood no chance against the synths. He crouched down, giving BB-8 the map and telling them to get out of there, go as far as they could. Thankfully, they listened.

Poe had heard a lot about Kylo Ren in the time he’d worked for the Pilots. He’d even heard the name back when he’d been working for the Republic, before their stance on the synths had finally convinced him they weren’t the people he wanted to help. Rumours, that he’d once been close to the Resistance or that he was a Jedi infiltrating the First Order, even that he was someone important’s son, ran rife through both arms of the resistance. Poe didn’t listen to them, and he held his head up high when he finally encountered the long-legendary man.

He’d never been very good at self-preservation.

\---

He was careful about it. Timed handing in his blaster with Ren going in to talk to the prisoner, so he’d not have to wait long before he could smuggle him out. He was going to walk up to the cell, tell the guard that Ren had sent for him, march him out alone and take him up to the ‘porter room. From there they’d have to move quickly to get far enough away, but it was doable. Especially if he could get the prisoner to one of the bikes he knew they kept in the garage above the exit to the base.

It went surprisingly well. No one questioned him as he collected the prisoner, or stopped him as he walked the man through the halls. Shoving him into an access area may have been strange, but no one said a word. It was nice to get the helmet off again, even if it was only for a moment. It was starting to suffocate him every time he put it on, something he never noticed before.

The man was older than he had expected. Eager and smart, and he didn’t even question why when he said he needed someone who could help him get out. Almost all the synths knew, “I need a Pilot” meant “I want to get out of here.” If anyone heard them say it… Reprogramming was violent and vigorous. No one ever came back even a little like their own selves. It was what FN-2187 faced if he didn’t escape quickly. Reaching the garage wasn’t that hard, in the end. They’d had to shoot one of the synths manning the ‘porter controls, but otherwise they’d have both died, or that’s what Poe kept telling himself.

They found a bike the two of them could fit on, FN-2187 holding on tightly as Poe made the bike move. He’d never gone so fast, it felt like. He managed a few good shots at the Stormtroopers who followed, and he was unbelievably glad he didn’t see any Corsairs among them.

It was close, but they managed to get away from those who had followed. Synths didn’t usually abscond directly from the base, and they’d just finished a major operation. The shifts were changing- and armouring up only happened for topside missions. They were lucky as hell, and they both knew it.

They barely slowed as they got further away from the base. Poe called behind him, grinning brightly.

“What’s your name?” He asked, looking back at the road.

“FN-2187.” He called back, holding tightly again.

“FN- that’s not a name.” Poe clucked, shaking his head. 

“Well, it’s the only one I’ve ever had.” He shrugged against his back.

“Finn. I’ll call you Finn. If you’re… alright with that?” He said. Finn grinned.

“Hell yeah. Finn. I like it.” Finn nodded, shifting a little in his seat. “What about you?”

“I’m Poe. Poe Dameron. Nice to meet you, Finn.” Poe laughed, nodding as he turned the bike around car wrecks along the road.

They went along in companionable silence, at least until the molerat emerged in the path of the bike and Poe, for some reason, swerved to avoid it.

They were both thrown from the bike, unconscious. Poe ended up curled under a sheet of metal, having barely missed hitting it when the bike hit the post. His jacket got caught on a curved spike ripped in the metal as he stumbled to his feet, pulling it off of his shoulders. Poe barely noticed as it stayed as he moved, wandering like a ghoul along the road.

It took Finn another two hours to wake up, the bike and his armour picked clean. But the jacket was still hanging there, from the metal spike.

But Poe was nowhere to be seen.

 


	2. the scavenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. I'm just getting everyone to meet everyone. I'm going to do another chapter tomorrow evening and I'm hoping to have one for Friday too, then I'll start posting weekly every Friday. I'll try and put some stuff on my tumblr (xkailajayx) like an annotated map for Rey and Finn and Poe at some point, and some descriptions of the way things work.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

It was a well known fact in the Commonwealth- and probably beyond- that raiders were assholes.

Scavengers often got lumped with them, but they weren’t the same. Scavengers lived off the bones of the caravans the raiders gutted, or the mirelurks, or that one time Rey encountered the aftermath of a Deathclaw. They didn’t kill unless they had to, didn’t steal. Just scavenged.

Like now, coming across the crashed bike. It was fair game, right? Not even really a bike anymore anyway, but it could have useful parts. She’d collected enough for the day, she hoped, but this was out in the open and there wouldn’t be anything left if she came back another day.

There wasn’t much left of it. Everything obvious had already gone, but Rey knew about the power core at the centre of the console, under the dials. Most people didn’t, because most people didn’t have their own, half-built bike sitting in their shack. She quickly pried the cover off, pulling the core from its cradle. Could be useful. Could get her paid enough to eat real food, and not more snack cakes. They probably wouldn’t ask how she came by it, she knew how much they made off of decently charged cores.

She was cutting it close, getting back to Bunker Hill. The traders were packing up, getting ready to turn in. Rey just caught Unkar Plutt before he left, and she knew she wasn’t getting the best prices. But she had food, real food, and she wasn’t going to go to bed hungry. Rey lived a little outside of the compound that was Bunker Hill, in a half wood, half brick room that was all that was left of an old, pre-war building. It wasn’t much, but it was hers, and she didn’t have to fight too hard to keep it hers. 

***

The frantic beeping started a little after Rey had finished her dinner. It took a second for her to realise it was a droid, and it wasn’t happy. She dropped everything, grabbing her staff, and started an argument with the Provisioner who’d decided the little thing was his to dismantle.

When he’d finally walked out of sight, she crouched down in front of it.

“Right. You don’t want to stick around here long. Bunker Hill’s that way, don’t go that way, it’s mostly marsh. And go quickly, raiders like to show up after dark.” She said, checking it over and straightening it’s antenna. It beeped quickly in response at her. 

“I’m going to bed. Might listen to the radio. You need to get to the settlement.” Rey said, standing and turning to walk back to her shack. It followed for a second, then stopped and made the most pitiful, sorrowful noise Rey had ever heard. 

“Fine. You can come. But I’ll take you to the settlement tomorrow and then you’re on your own, alright?” It beeped excitedly at that, rolling after her over the rubble as they made their way to her home. It didn’t take the droid long to get comfortable, but Rey was left wondering where the droid came from long into the night.

***

Finn didn’t know how long exactly it took him to reach the imposing gates of Bunker Hill. He’d not eaten or drunk anything in what felt like days, and he’d accidentally wandered through a patch of radiation when his counter had run out of power. They were never charged more than needed, and he was honestly surprised it had lasted as long as it had.

He’d thought there would be Stormtroopers. Rebel men, Pilots, any of the many titles, faces he’d seen as targets, as people to kill. But there weren’t any. He had an awkward few moments hiding from a Radscorpion, with no blaster or armour he’d have quickly died against it. But once he reached the gates, he thought he was safe.

All he was offered with cartons of dirty water, not even radtreatement or anything to eat. Finn drank it down desperately, every drop disappearing. And then he saw the droid. It was so out of place here, still clean and bright white, still with- what Finn could tell, robotics hadn’t been his job- the original parts. How had that survived like it had? Clearly not through any kind of common sense, it had just had a blanket thrown over it. 

There was a girl with it, a long staff in her hands as she quickly dispatched the people attempting to take the droid. That was pretty damn impressive, he thought, until they were all on the floor and the girl was staring at him.

Finn took off running. Bunker Hill was like a maze, shacks leaning against the thick masonry, and he quickly got turned around. Running smack into the girl hadn’t been part of the plan, especially as he found himself very quickly on the floor being stared at by her, the droid leaning in close.

“You’re a thief.” She said, glaring down at him. He frowned up at her.

“No I’m not?” Finn said, almost a question.

“The jacket. The droid says it belongs to it’s master.” She pointed the staff at her as the droid reached out and shocked him, making him jump more than anything else. The jacket- Poe’s jacket.

“Poe? Poe Dameron? You belong to Poe?” He asked. The only response from the droid he got was another shock. “Stop that! He- it’s complicated.”

“What do you mean, it’s complicated?” The girl asked, frowning. “You know his name?” Finn nodded quietly.

“He- look, the First Order got him. I helped him get out, but I lost him. This is all I could find, but he wanted to get out to find you.” Finn said, talking to the droid. It made a quiet beep and pulled its shocker back in, looking up at the girl, who offered a hand.

“I’m Rey.” She said. “You’re with the Resistance?” Finn took her hand, standing up and dusting himself off before he quite understood what she’d asked.

“Uh- yeah, yeah. I’m with the Resistance. I am with the Resistance. I’m Finn.” He nodded, smiling nervously. 

“Well, you said something- what’s that?” Rey asked, hearing a quiet rumble. Flashes went off around the walls outside, and then there were the sounds of boots on the ground where there hadn’t been before. The First Order had found him. And, it appeared, the frantically beeping droid. Sizing each other up for a second, they nodded and took off running. Scared to lose her, Finn grabbed her hand and held tight as they ran.

She didn’t seem to appreciate it very much.

***

Rey knew the twisting corridors of the Bunker. It was her home, and had been as far back as she could remember. It was only sensible to stay near one place. People who moved away were the caravanners- and there was a reason they had such a high turnover of guards- and the Settlers. And, she supposed now, the First Order, and the Resistance, and whoever else was pulled along with them. Like the droid and its master. 

BB-8, they were called. BB-8, and their master was Poe Dameron. She thought she’d heard the name mentioned in Bunker Hill a couple of times, a man on a bike that rescued caravans from raiders on his way to whoever-knows-where, one of those weird Synth-lovers living across the river. Not someone she’d be too excited to meet, but the way BB-8 had spoken about him…

As she thought, moving through the half tent, half shack structure, a beam crashed down in front of her, bringing Rey back to the very real situation she was in. Finn wouldn’t stop holding her hand, and she kept worrying about losing BB-8. They had to get to one of the junkers, cars and vans that had been convinced to work, although rarely for very long, or very well. Those were the options- good and quick, or shit and it sticks. But a slow van was better than a brahmin, if you could get the fuel to keep the van running. 

There was one she’d worked on right in front of them, if they could keep going. Another junker was quicker, but Plutt had messed with that one beyond all recognition, no point.

“Don’t we need someone who can drive one of those things?” Finn called, having finally let go of her. BB-8 was close on his heels.

“We do. I can.” She called back, frowning at him as she saw the ‘troopers get closer.

“Why not go to that one?” He yelled, gesturing at the closer one.

“That one? It’s garbage-” She said confidently, not too far from the decent van she knew was fueled up now. And then it exploded. “The garbage will do!” Rey suddenly panicked, scrambling to run towards the other ship.

It, fortunately, didn’t take long to get orientated within the van, slamming the doors closed and driving onto the road quickly. BB-8 was pushed back, into the central section of the van, as Rey drove as quickly as she dared. She knew the streets better than the ‘troopers, and the van was still fast. Just over complicated, and the turret on the back was antiquated. It had to be hand operated, and BB-8 certainly couldn’t.

It was disconcerting, knowing that instead of the defensive turrets- which ended up not working against the ‘troopers- all they had protecting them was a minigun and Finn, a man she’d only just met, operating it. But she had to trust him, didn’t she? He was Resistance.

***

They’d managed to get away again. He’d run into two of the best pilots he’d ever encountered, and both in such a short span of time he could barely believe it. Settling in the seat at the back of the van, he looked down at BB-8.

“So, you going to tell me where you and Poe were going?” He asked quietly. BB-8 beeped tersely at him. 

“Look, We’ve got to get you home, you’ve got to tell us where.” Finn huffed, staring at the droid. They beeped again in reply, glaring at him as best they could, as a droid.

“What’s going on back there?” Rey’s voice carried over the sound of the engine. Finn felt the same panic he’d been keeping at bay rise up again. He shifted to lean close to BB-8.

“I’m not Resistance, but I want to help. Tell us where you’re going and we’ll get you there. Please.” He said, exasperated.

The thumbs up was unexpected, especially when paired with the droid rolling closer to Rey to tell her where they needed to go to.

“The Castle?” She asked. “Isn’t that infested?” BB-8 replied, leaving Finn confused and not just a little worried. Infested with what?

***

They’d been driving about five minutes when they arrived at the checkpoint. A spindly tower, a basic roadblock. They were all over, some run by different groups, other by the locals. Sometimes a raider got it into their head they’d be the new wasteland emperor if they only took enough tolls. They were usually quickly moved on.

Rey stopped the van and got out, crouching down to look around. She didn’t know this checkpoint. She gestured to Finn to stay down, looking carefully at the surroundings. 

“I knew I recognised the sound of that ignition.” Came a voice, carrying on the road. A soft rumble was the only reply Rey could hear from her point.

“We got our baby back, Chewie!” Rey peered around the side of the van. An old man, and- huh. Some kind of bear?

“You!” She’d been seen, crap. It was time to get out of there, but Finn and BB-8 were still in the van- she couldn’t just abandon them.

“I’m not going to hurt you, who are you?” The old man asked. Rey shook her head, hands curling around her staff.

“My name’s Han Solo, okay, this is Chewie-” He said, holstering his blaster.

“Han Solo?” Rey exclaimed, staring at him.

“Han Solo?” Came Finn’s voice, almost an echo, as he clambered into view. “The Han Solo? The last Resistance General before Organa?”

“No, the smuggler!” Rey crowed, grinning brightly. “That means this is the Millennium Falcon, the only one made before the War. This van did the Kessler-”

“Right, we’re right out in the open right now, and we don’t want to be, so what if we get in the Falcon now and get somewhere safe, huh?” Han suggested, huffing a breath. They piled in, Chewie sitting with Finn and BB-8 in the back as Rey bounced in the seat next to Han.

“So… How did you lose your van?” She asked, frowning.

“I didn’t lose it. It got stolen.” Han said. “And then-”

***


End file.
